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The Fun Club
A few months ago I produced a series of benefit
concerts. I didn't realize I was being so closely
observed by my seven year old daughter, Molly, as I
booked the performance hall, printed flyers from my
computer, posted them around town, and called my
friends to encourage them to attend. But Molly must
have been taking mental notes. One day last month
she announced to me that she was starting a
club.
She asked me to help her make the flyer on the
computer. She spoke and I typed:
Hi, my name is Molly and I am starting a club
called The Fun Club. We get to go to very fun
places like the zoo and the boardwalk and the
roller-rink and bowling and things like that, so
join The Fun Club and tell your friends about The
Fun Club.
Molly passed the flyers out to her class at
school, deciding not to exclude any of her
classmates. Then she made phone calls while her mom
and I overheard. Her seven year old voice replayed
the adult phrasings she had heard me using a few
months before.
"Hello, Jason? Umm. Well, this is Molly. And I
am calling about The Fun Club. And umm, are you
wanting to join The Fun Club? Good! Cause, umm we
would love to have you. And umm, the first one is
this Friday, no, Thursday! Sorry. It's at 11:00.
Okay? Oh, and I almost forgot: it's at the bowling
alley. Okay? Bye."
Needless to say, The Fun Club was a great
success, much more so than my benefit concert
series turned out to be. Why not? What second
grader would not want to join a fun club? I'd like
to join one myself! But it probably wouldn't be
half as fun as watching my daughter organize her
own.
At the second meeting of The Fun Club my little
organizer suffered a disappointment. The plan was
for all the kids to start out with a game called
"Hook Tag". In Hook Tag you are safe from getting
tagged only if you hook elbows with another player.
The rules the kids played by, however, were not the
same as the ones Molly knew. She kept trying to
stop the game and demand that her rules be
followed. When her Mom and I intervened and
supported following the rules that the rest of the
kids knew, Molly dropped out and fell into a sulk.
She sat down in the tall grass, elbows on her
knees, cheeks buried in her fists.
As the game rolled on I considered what to do to
help Molly feel better and rejoin the group. The
options I came up with were:
A) Lecture: "Molly, just because you started The
Fun Club doesn't mean you get to be the boss of
everybody here!" While that might satisfy my need
to express myself, I doubted it would help her. So
I squelched it.
B) Distract: I could go over and give Molly some
special attention to do something else so that she
wouldn't feel bad any more. Distracting her,
however, would interrupt her from moving through
her feelings. After the distraction stopped
captivating her interest, she would still have
unresolved feelings toward the group. She might
then be confused about why she still didn't feel
"all the way better". Plus, to offer her something
exciting enough to distract her from her
disappointment would be to strongly reward her
sulking, setting us up for repeat performances.
C) Ignore her. I didn't think this would
particularly help Molly either, but it seemed like
a good way to start. By waiting I could avoid
rewarding her for sulking. And I could see how much
she recovered on her own, before I assessed what
help she might need from me.
D) Empathy: "I can imagine that must have felt
pretty bad to have everyone start to play the game
the wrong way. And then to have your mom and I not
support you to change the rules back to the ones
you know." After a little while I went over to
Molly and tried the above statement. An attempt to
empathize is usually helpful even if I miss the
mark. Molly often won't answer if I just ask her
how she feels, but she will be quick to correct me
if I empathize inaccurately. As usual, my first
attempt was wrong. What really bugged her was that
the game was getting so chaotic with the rules they
were using. Having apprised me of this, she found
an opening and hopped back into the game, leaving
me in the tall grass, my job done for the time
being.
So if I ever do start my own Fun Club, I hope I
remember to include empathy as part of what we do.
A good dose of empathy gets us back in the mood for
fun.
© 2008 Tim
Hartnett
Other Father Issues,
Books
* * *
Parents are the bones on which children sharpen
their teeth. - Peter Ustinov
Tim
Hartnett, MFT is father to Molly at their home in
Santa Cruz, CA. Tim also works part time as a
writer, psychotherapist and men's group leader. If
you have any feedback, or would like to receive the
monthly column, "Daddyman Speaks" by Tim Hartnett
regularly via email, (free and confidential) send
your name and email address to E-Mail
Tim Hartnett, 911 Center St. Suite "C", Santa Cruz,
CA 95060, 831.464.2922 voice & fax.
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